BENEATH THE SCARS
he face of High Point lacrosse is burned and disfigured.
It took Connor McKemey a long time to love this version of himself. Pink and white blotches cover most of his face, reminders of the horrific backyard explosion in which he nearly died seven years ago. McKemey was
13 at the time. He first saw his reflection in the dark screen of his laptop while immobilized in a hospital bed at a burn center in Augusta, Ga. He immediately snapped it shut. Now McKemey sees his scars as symbols of survival, rather than the wounds of a victim. He’s blunt, even funny when asked about the challenges he continues to face due to the accident that charred nearly 90 percent of his body.
“I can legitimately say that I have thin skin,” McKemey said. That’s because his arms and legs are covered with synthetic skin that’s only four layers thick. Natural skin has seven layers. On Dec. 21, 2008, a propane tank exploded as McKemey tried to light an outdoor fireplace at his home in Tega Cay, S.C. His mother, Karin, jumped out of a ground-floor window to put out the flames that engulfed her son. Their neighbor, a firefighter, rushed over to smother him in wet towels. McKemey remembers only brief moments — the ball of fire, the seaming flames and the back of an ambulance — before waking up from a medically induced coma eight weeks later. At first, McKemey’s doctors wanted to keep him alive just long enough for his father, George, a U.S. Marine who was flying back from Iraq the day of the accident, to see him. They gave McKemey a 1-percent chance of survival. Fifty-one days later, McKemey woke up. A week after that, he breathed without a ventilator. In May 2009, he moved to a rehab center closer to home. He learned to walk, tie his shoes and button his clothes. The following month, he walked across the stage at his eighth-grade graduation. In July 2009, just seven months after the fire, McKemey played lacrosse again. Before he strapped on his equipment — he had to cut a hole in his left glove because he was missing portions of his fingers and his middle finger was fused perpendicular to his palm — he said something to his parents that now is emblazoned on a purple plaque in the High Point lacrosse locker room. “Today is the best day,” McKemey said. “Today I play.”
Connor McKemey, on the sideline with his High Point teammates Feb. 20 at Maryland (top left), was the team’s manager for two seasons before making the roster in the fall.
Bottom left to right: McKemey before and after the backyard explosion that charred nearly 90 percent of his body when he was 13.
34 LACROSSE MAGAZINE »April 2016 A Publication of US Lacrosse
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